


in pieces

by theslytherinqueen



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bullying, Declarations Of Love, Depressed Dan Howell, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Sex, No Smut, POV Dan Howell, Phanfiction, Selectively Mute Dan Howell, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Dan Howell, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2018-12-20 13:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theslytherinqueen/pseuds/theslytherinqueen
Summary: "I love you Dan,"  He had said, "but I can't watch you destroy yourself."This piece offictioncontains self-harm, suicidal thoughts and various other mental health issues.  For more detail, look at the tags.  Please be wary of reading this fiction, as it may have triggering effects for some people.





	1. Chapter 1

_Selectively Mute._

I was sick of labels.

_Depressed._

I was sick of  _those thoughts_ that cloud my mind.

_Cutter._

I was sick of the things that made Phil leave me. 

\---///---

"Okay, so today we're going to talk about different struggles we've had since now and the last time we had a session."  Cat (formally _Dr._   _Catherine_ _Victoria Richmond_ ) said.  Cat was a nice person- a lot nicer than a lot of the people he'd met in the hospital.  I know she gets paid to be here, but it still seems like she actually cares about us- like she actually thinks any of us have a future at all.  She doesn't treat us like the fuck-ups the rest of the world sees us as.  She doesn't see me as someone who needs to be protected.  Sh doesn't judge any of us, no matter what we do, not matter what we have done, because she knows we have our reasons.   _"There's no point in treating you like you're sick.  You're not."_ she always says,  _"You're here to get over that shit."_ Despite her niceness, she still swore.  And that made her more comforting than the doctors because she treated us like friends, not like fragile patients.  She even looks like a wholesome person (that is if you can classify people just by looking at them), with brown, shoulder-length hair and eyes the colour of honey.  She had a soft, slow-paced voice, trained to be comforting for anyone.  Or maybe she was just born reassuring.    

"Yeah?"  Reaper replied, "Because so much  _must've_ happened since we saw you last night!"   I could practically hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice onto the floor.  Reaper, to put it quite simply, was an asshole.  Firstly, no-one (albeit the doctors) knew his real name.   He paraded around this place as if he owned the place.  As if we're all below him, but I know that he's our equal.  Everyone knows, it's shown by the burn marks marring his skin, just reaching the edges of the tattoos lining his arms, legs and practically his whole body.   That and the fact that his skin is yellow, showing us that he's had some kind of alcohol problem in the past.  He'd like to keep up the tough exterior, but I know he's as (if not more) broken than the rest of us.  That and the fact that he's my roommate, so I can hear him screaming through his nightmares.  It doesn't matter anyway- it's not like I ever plan on sleeping:  sleeping just catches me and drowns me.  

"Reaper,"  Cat said, her tone warning him not to go further.  Cat was a nice person, but she had one rule:  No making fun of anyone or anything we discuss.  

Reaper stayed silent.  Another thing you should know is that Reaper had a pretty big crush on Cat, which meant that she could stop him from, well, adhering to his asshole-y tendencies.  Not that I'd tell anyone (I wouldn't want to anyway.  I'm pretty sure that Reaper can beat someone up just by looking at them.)

"So who wants to go first?"  Cat say looking around the circle that she makes us sit in every time we have group therapy.  

"Uh..."  A girl said.  I didn't recognise her at all.  She must be new. Poor girl.  "I was just put in here." she continued, and Cat smiled at her. 

I remember my first few weeks here.  

At first I couldn't believe I'd ended up in a mental institution.  I don't think I fully accepted it until I'd been here for at least a week.  At that point, I realised that I was stuck here,  _trapped_ in these white walls, indefinitely. I remember people trying to make me talk, but I didn't want to.  I didn't want to spill my heart out to these  _strangers_.  I didn't want them to know  _anything_ about me.  At first they tried to get me to talk, but after a few days, they gave up.  One thing I am thankful for is that they don't push you in this place.  They believe that we will get better through occasional prompting and being open, not daily interrogations (okay, so maybe that word's a  _bit_ strong, but you know what I mean.)  After the first day they did try and find out whether I was born mute, and they concluded that I wasn't, due to the fact that I had no way of communicating with them (no sign language, no nothing), and I wasn't even trying to communicate with them.  Every day they'd asked me what I remembered.  I'd just shrugged my shoulders and turned from them.  There was  _no way_ I would've told them what I remembered, whether I spoke or not.  

I could never describe it, because the thought of what I last remembered broke my heart every time I thought about it.  The feeling of his lips on mine, the feeling of needing someone, the feeling of the wind in my hair, rustling my clothes.  The feeling of his arms around me.  The feeling of being broken, but working, as long as I had him beside me.  The feeling that everything was going to be okay.  

But then he pulled away, too early, too quickly.  The cold washed over me, and I felt his warmth get dragged away from me.  

"I love you Dan,"  He had said, "but I can't watch you destroy yourself."

And then the police showed up.    

The last thing I remembered was his face:  his perfect hair being tousled by the wind instead of my hands, his soft lips saying the sharpest of words- words that stung so, _so_ much 

The last thing I remember is his eyes, his  _beautiful, blue eyes_ , filled with the most pain I'd ever seen in them, all my fault.  

_All my fault._

I reach for my notebook as the girl continued talking.  It's a worn-down, black leather notebook: it's nothing special.   Or at least it's nothing special to anyone but me.  For me it's a piece of me, as I have poured my heart and soul in there.  It's filled with drawings and notes.  Thoughts maybe. 

 _the fact that i've hurt you_ , I wrote,  
_hurts me so much more_  
that i could ever  
inflict upon myself.  

I then shut the book, and look around to see if anyone had noticed me writing.  No one had.  

Well, no one except for Reaper that is.  He caught my eyes, and smiled maliciously at me.  I tried not to show the fear on my face as he moved over to where I was sitting.  No one noticed, as they were all concentrating on the girl and Cat. 

"Thank you, Julianna." Cat said, after the girl had finished, "Now,"  she continued, moving on as she was used to doing, "Does anybody have any thoughts on this that they wish to share?   Or perhaps they'd like to share a struggle of their own?"  She looked around, and Reaper raised his hand.  This was a sign that he was planning something.  The Reaper I know would never wait his turn.  

"Yes, Reaper?" Cat says, her voice cautious.  She must also know that he's up to know good.  

"I've decided that I have a struggle,"  he announces, "and my struggle is to do with Silent Sam over here." 

Cat stayed quiet.  Everyone was so quiet.  So quiet that I wondered why none could here my heart rate quicken as I gripped my note book tightly.  

"Why doesn't he have to say anything?  He just sits there doing nothing and I'm sick of it.  He's not even paying attention anymore!  He's writing in that stupid notebook."  

Cat frowned, before saying, "I don't think-"  but Reaper cut her off. 

"He should've been giving Jamie-"

"-Julianna-" the girl corrected him.

"-his full attention."  He looked at me, "I think,"  he said, "that we should see what was so important that he ignored Jennifer's-"

"-Julianna-"  the girl corrected him again.  

"-struggles."  And before I could even react, he tore the notebook from my hands.  

And he opened it to the first page.  

It was an old poem.  But it was still private.   

" _hidden tears_ " he reads, mocking me, making the words seem dramatic and over the top, " _shine in his eyes_ -"

"That's quite enough!"  Cat said, "Go to your room, Reaper."  She took the notebook from him before he walked away.  "Dan,"  She said, softly, "Would you like to go to your room as well?"  I shake my head.  There's no way I'm going to be alone when Reaper's not under supervision.  "Okay."  she says, handing my notebook back to me, and I pull it close to my chest.  Cat then says we have a few minutes to talk among ourselves whilst she goes and checks on Reaper.  

I open my notebook, and it falls on a random drawing.  My eyes glaze over as I look at his black hair, ands gorgeous eyes.  I hold my tears back as I put my hand on his cheek.   _Phil_ , I think,  _My precious Phil_.  

\---///---

Later on Cat came into my room.  "Dan?"  She said.

I looked up from my notebook.  I had been doodling absent-mindedly, whilst thinking about my first few weeks here.  It was difficult.  It was so  _fucking_ difficult.  I couldn't believe that I was trapped here, without Phil.  I couldn't believe I made the on person who loved me not want to deal with me.  I tried  _so_ hard to kill myself after I was put in here.   _So hard_.  I didn't eat (until they forced food into me).  I didn't drink anything (Until they forced me to drink).  I didn't sleep.  I didn't do anything. I didn't want to live without Phil because when you love someone so much, when no one else loves you, you need them.  You need them to love you back, and by putting me in this place Phil made it pretty clear that he didn't fucking want me.  

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for Reaper's behaviour."  She said, sitting down at the edge of my bed.  "What he did was uncalled for."  

I shrug my shoulders, like it was no big deal.  It was though: what I write in that notebook- it's personal.  

"Anyway, you have been allowed a visitor."  She smiles, "And he's waiting in the visiting room."

 _He's_ waiting?  Could it be...?

"Normally, we don't let visitors in, especially with your amount of points."  This place works on points.  You get points if you do something good, and lose them if you act out.  The more points you have, the more privileges you have.  For example, a certain amount of points could allow me to upload to YouTube again (if I wanted that). Since I'd pretty much done nothing since I'd got here, I had earned very few points. "But the visitor insisted,"  Cat continued, "And I though I'd let you have a treat as Reaper was such a dickhead today." I smile at her.  Cat has this way of making you feel better no matter what had happened.  That doesn't mean that you felt good, or even okay, and it didn't mean that all of your problems suddenly melted away, but no matter how fucked you were, Cat could make you feel a little better.  

\---///---

I followed her down to a plain room, with a table and a chair on both sides of the table.  The right-hand wall was completed made out of glass, and I could see a few supervisors looking through it.  They looked incredibly grumpy, as if they couldn't believe that they had to waste their time supervising someone like me being visited, to make sure that the visitor didn't do anything that didn't comply with the rules.  Unlike Cat, these bastards had so many rules I can't remember more than half of them, and trust me, I have a great memory.  

I slowly sat down on one of the chairs, gulping as I waited for them to bring the visitor in.  I looked through the window-wall-thing to see Cat smile at me and give me a thumbs up, like she was trying to say  _you got this_.  

The door opened with a creak and I saw his raven hair, and bright blue eyes.   

"Hi Dan."  Phil said. 


	2. Chapter 2

I focus on a blank spot in the white wall behind him. I can still see him from the corner of my eye: he is pulling on the hem of his sweater, not daring to meet my eyes. His posture is bad, his shoulders slightly hunched. He doesn't know what to do, and I guess I don't know either. How do you pick up from _You left me and locked me up in a mental institution._

I feel conflicted: one part of me wants to fall into his arms: to hug him and kiss him and tell him that I love him and that it's okay that he trapped me in this place because he still cares. The other part of me... Well, it wants to scream and shout. I want to tell him that he should have never left me here, to tell him that he should go and to tell him that he should've never come here. I have no idea what he's feeling wither.  I want him to be sorry, to tell me that everything is okay, to tell me that he's taking me far, far away from here.  But I can't predict what he's going to do because I've never been in this situation.  We've never been in this situation.  

We stand in silence for a while as neither of us knew what to say. I'm well aware of the extreme tutting that was going on in the room where the all the doctors are pissed off about us wasting their time. I can't meet Phil's eyes. He's staring at me though; probably taking in my scruffy appearance. I hadn't bothered to comb my hair, so it's unruly and curly and sticking out in all directions. I'm wearing a white (white-ish anyway) t-shirt, which has a tiny stain on the corner where I'd dropped some of my lunch. I'm staring at our feet: my bare ones, and his that have colourful trainers on.

"Dan," He says, as soon as he stopped being able to take the silence, "Please. Say something."

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, hoping that the tears that were in the verge on falling would not to do so.

"Dan, I love you."

 _Deep breaths_ , I think, _Deep breaths_. But no matter how much I try not to cry, my breathing became uneven, and a few stray tears fells down my cheeks, because I had been ignoring everything that had happened before I got here, and now I'm being forced to think about it and process it all at once and it's too fucking much.

I stay silent.

"You aren't going to do this Dan." Phil says, "You aren't going to stop talking because things didn't get your way. You were going to kill yourself!"

I gulp, still trying to force back the tears.  I manage to keep them behind my eyes after a few minutes. 

"I can't believe this."  He says, shaking his head, "You aren't even speaking to me.  You aren't speaking to anyone.  Don't you want to get better?"

"MAYBE I DON'T!" I shout, sick of feeling like a kid being told of by my parent. My voice is a hoarse whisper from weeks of not using it, so I'm shouting quieter than I normally would. In the corner of my eye, I can see the doctors' surprised faces. I guess they didn't expect me to talk. "YOU CAN'T JUST WALK IN HERE AND EXPECT EVERYTHING TO BE FUCKING OKAY!" My throat is aching, but I don't care. " YOU LEFT ME HERE!  HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FEEL?" I continue, feeling a sob rising in my throat.

"Dan-" He tries to interrupt.

"BUT NO, IT'S ALL ABOUT ME GETTING BETTER!  DID IT NOT OCCUR TO THAT I MIGHT BE BETTER OFF AT HOME WITH MY BOYFRIEND CARING FOR ME THAN IN A FUCKING MENTAL INSTITUTION?"

"Look, I-"

"YOU HAVE NO _FUCKING_  CLUE HOW DIFFICULT IT IS TO BE HERE!" My throat was screaming from the pain, and I can no longer find the energy in me to shout.  "You fucking left me." I say weakly. The tears are falling faster now, because I love him so fucking much, and he doesn't give a shit.

"Dan..."

I just shake my head.  I really can't deal with this, now of all times.

He walks around the table slowly, and steps close to me. He puts his arms around me and pulls me into his embrace. I instantly melt into him because fuck, I missed him. I miss waiting for him before I ate breakfast, so that we could watch anime together whilst eating. I miss stealing kisses in public when we think that there's no one around. I even fucking miss him stealing my Crunchy Nut.

I'm full-on sobbing as he pulls away from me. Instead of returning to the other side of the room like I had expected him to, he lifts my chin up gently, so that I meet his eyes. He wipes my tears away with his thumb. His eyes are glazed over. I push him away, and try to compose myself. I can see the hurt in his eyes.

"Dan." he said, his tone now patronising, "Don't do this."

"Fuck. Off."

"I'm not joking around, Dan. You're only going to make yourself worse."

"Because obviously you know what's best." I spit, not meaning it at all.

"No, but because I was up there on that roof when you decided to kill yourself."

I stay silent. My throat hurts from shouting, from using my voice at all after so long.

"I don't want to lose you."

My lip is quivering, and i'm on the verge of tears once more. I bite my lip and stare straight into his eyes, before saying, "You didn't want to lose me, so you trapped me here." Venom laces my voice, "What a great idea!" I add, sarcastically.

"Dan, I-"

"Fucking save it."

And I walk out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

As soon as I'm in the hallway, I let the tears fall once more.

Phil follows me, grabbing my wrists and pulling me towards him.  "Dan, don't do this, please, don't do this."  His eyes are look desperately into mine, "Please, Dan, I love you, I'll get you out of here, I'm sorry."  He's crying now, and I pull him into my embrace, and he puts his head in the crook of my neck, "Please."  he whispers.  I pull away from the hug and he looks sad for a moment, but then I push him against the wall and plaster my lips to his, feeling a mixture of love, lust and hate.  He kisses back passionately, but he doesn't fight for dominance, he just lets me kiss him.  My one of my hands reach up his shirt, and the other one reaches the waistband of his jeans.  He starts to smile into the kiss, and I pull away.  We stand there for a moment, catching our breath.  

"This doesn't change anything.  I'm still mad at you."  I say.  

"I know."  He replies.  "I love you.  And I am sorry for putting you in here.  I just panicked."

"I still don't forgive you,"  I say, and his face falls, "but I love you too."

He leans in and pecks me on my lips.  "Do you want me to visit you again?"  He asks.  

I shrug my shoulders.  He doesn't have any time to reply as Cat comes running towards us.  

"Hey, Dan, Mr. Lester," she says, "You need to stay in that room for the rest of the visit."  I roll my eyes.  "I was told to tell you that!"  she adds defensively.  

I smile at her and motion leaving with my hand.  She nods and I walk out of that corridor and back to my room, still thinking of his lips pressed against mine. 

\---///---

_Everything is unfamiliar. Warm, but unfamiliar.  The room is silent, except for the quiet beeping of the machine besides me.  I can hear my breathing; it's slow and shallow.  It's smells vaguely like antiseptic, and I don't like it.  I'm instantly missing the warm smell of our house, the mixture of home and whichever scented candle we'd decided to light at that particular moment.  I can see a white room._

_"Daniel?" someone says, and I turn to the door. I see a man there, with blonde hair and striking green eyes. I frown at him._

_"I'm Dr. Anderson." The guy continued. "Your friend Mr. Lester brought you here."_

Phil... _I thought._

_"You were up on a roof." He says slowly, "Do you remember why?"_

_I try to think back, but I'm too weak to think, let alone give a coherent answer._

_"Okay, I understand that you don't want to speak currently." The doctor says after about three minutes. He then leaves the room._ _"Call Mr. Lester" I hear him say as the door closes._

_Alone again._

Phil...

\---///---

"Hey Mute Mike!"  Reaper says as I walk into our room.  Naturally, the institution had decided to put me in a room with that asshat when I first arrived.  I wave, giving him a fake smile, before dropping my hand (and the smile) and shooting him a quick glare. "Hey!"  He says, "No need to look at me like that."  I roll my eyes and head over to my bed.  "Look,"  Reaper then says, incredibly unaware of how little I want to talk to him, "Cat said that I have to apologise to you.  So, yeah, I'm sorry and whatever."  I nod.  "Cool!  Could you, like, tell her?"  I don't move.  "Fine, fine, I get it."  

I pull out some papers from beside my bed.  

"Whatcha doin', Silent Sam?"

 I start drawing.  I'm not drawing Phil or anything, because that's personal and I don't need Reaper finding something else to exploit.  Instead, I start to draw Haru from _Free!_ I start by drawing his eyes, carefully shading the shadows marked by his fringe.  I then move on to drawing that:  sketching a ouch outline before making sharper, more detailed lines. 

"Bro, you are like the worst roommate ever."  Reaper says, bored of me, "I lost a lot of points today, so I no longer have my phone.  How am I supposed to play _Crossy Road_ now?"

I shrug, shading Haru's fringe in.  I then sketch out an outline of his face, focusing on the shape of the chin before adding in his nose and mouth.  I then add shading to his face and start on the neck.  

"My favourite character is the Emo Goose?  What's yours?"  

I stifle a laugh as I remember that Phil was the one who made and voiced that character.  

"What's so funny?"

I shake my head as the door opens.  We both look up as Cat walks in.  She's wearing a dull blue hoodie with grey sweatpants, a contrast to her stylish and colourful everyday attire.  "Reaper, could you please leave us alone?"  She says. 

"Why?"

"Because I need to talk to Dan." 

Reaper just frowns in response.  

"Reaper, stop being a stubborn ass and get out."  she says. 

"Okay, okay..." He says, putting his hands up in surrender as he walks to the door, "Jeez, women are demanding."

Cat rolls her eyes as she sits down at the end of my bed.  "What are you drawing?"

I show her my half-finished Haru.  

"Who is he?"  she says.  I just look at her, because she knows our conversations never go past yes and no questions.  

"You spoke earlier.  Do feel like speaking again?"  This is the most direct she's ever bee about me not speaking.  She never likes to pressure any of the patients into doing things.  

I shake my head.  My throat still aches from my outburst earlier.  

"Okay."  she says, "I only asked because Dr. Anderson asked me too.  You know the dude scares the bejeezus out of me."  She laughs a quiet, tinkling laugh, "So, about earlier."  She continues, "We need to talk about it."

 _Oh._ I think,  _Great._

"Who was the guy?  A friend?  Boyfriend, perhaps?"

I nod.  

"Okay.  And he was the one who brought you here."

I nod again. 

"And how do you feel about that?  Angry?"

I shrug.  

"Okay."  

We sit in silence for a bit. 

"You know, Dan, I don't normally pursue things like this so deeply, but I can see you love him.  And I can see that he loves you."  

I frown at her, even though I know that she's right.  Phil does love me.  I remember the first time he said so.  

We'd been dating for about six months, and I'd had a horrible day at university.  I had come home, really tired, and sick of everything.  Phil, being the godamn perfect boyfriend, noticed and asked me if I wanted to pay Mario Kart.  I had nodded and smiled at him, thankful that he hadn't asked me what was wrong.  We had played for a while, me biting the controller when I lost, rejoicing when I won, and after one race he'd kissed me.  I asked him why and he'd said that it was because I looked cute when I was happy.  So we'd continued playing, constantly stealing kisses from each other, when one of our kisses became really heated.  He literally carried me to the bedroom, and we had sex. Afterwards we began talking.  And he let it slip out. I remember him instantly covering him mouth, his eyes wide.  I said it back quickly, which made him laugh and begin to kiss me again.  I smile at the memory.  

"Dan?"  Cat says, waving her hand in front of my face, "You zoned out."

I bite my lip.  

"Okay, I was saying that you earn a few points today, so I have something for you."

I raise my eyebrows at her.  

She pulled a laptop out of her bag, and handed it to me. 

My mouth fell open. 

"It has an internet connection too, but you can only use it under supervision:  the wifi can only be turned on by me or another doctor."

I smile at the laptop.  

"Well, that's all."  She says, "I'll be going then, and I'll send Reaper back in too.  Ask me for some of the internet tomorrow, okay?"

I nod, opening the laptop. 

A few minutes later, Reaper waltzed in.

"How'd you manage to get that, Mike?"

I shrug my shoulder's.

"Anyway, I need someone to talk to."

I roll my eyes and shake my head.

"I can't hear you say no!"  He says, "Okay, so I'm 100% sure that Cat likes me, you should've seen the way she looked at me earlier..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> italics are dan's memories, not the ones he's thinking about, but ones that are relevant to the story (to some extent)  
>  **TRIGGER WARNING: there is a description of self-harm in this chapter, please don't read it if you think that there is any possibility of it being triggering to you.** you can always ask me to tell you what happened in the chapter so that you don't have to read the self-harm/suicidal thought bits, and I will warn you about trigger warnings before the chapter begins. if you think that there are trigger warning that I have missed out, please comment them and I will make changes as soon as I see the comment.  
> Also, I use a lot of twitter handles in the story, I don't actually know whether these exist in real life or not, I just added them, they do not relate to the owners of the actual handles at all, i just thought of them on the spot.  
> in the doing bit dan is **bold** and phil is _italics_
> 
> Now, on with the story!

Reaper was fast asleep.  I knew because his loud snores were practically shaking the room every single time he breathed. 

I couldn't sleep.  No, not when there was so much to be doing and thinking about.  

The night time is the best time to be alive, because everyone else is asleep.  

The night time is the best time to think, to stay awake, because I don't want to be lulled into sleep.  

I still had a mountain of feelings inside of me, things I wished I had said when I had seen Phil.  

I grabbed my journal (which, at this point, had turned into a book meant for Phil to read one day.)

_Phil,_ I wrote,   _We could have been perfect._

_You were halfway there anyway._

_You were the sun and I was the moon.  You were the sky and I was the sea.  We were opposites, but we fit together, like pieces of a not-so-difficult puzzle.  You were light and joy and colour, and you helped bring those elements into my darkness._

_You were bright and blazing the first time I saw you.  You stood out among the crowd, wearing a yellow t-shirt that made your pale skin glow.  You were beauty.   I remember seeing you looking around the train station, trying to find me, and I remember you smile and wave at me.  I hadn't slept that night, because I was so nervous to be meeting you.  You were_ _radiant.  The Skype calls, the DMs, the comments on YouTube;  none of it could've braced me for the rush of emotions that I felt when I first saw you.  Love, lust and every other happy feeling known too mankind mingled together in a harmony of happiness._

_Your lips were slightly chapped,  but that didn't stop me from kissing them as soon as I saw you, happy that I found YouTube and clicked on a video by AmazingPhil, because my life had changed forever in that small moment._

_And then I fell in love._

_I was sometimes bold.  Brash, daring, stupidly reckless.   I would do what I wanted to do without any thought because consequences were never made to be thought of when you’re in the process of being young, having fun and living.  Sometimes I’d be emotional.  I’d yell, scream and cry in the space of three minutes, and you’d sit there, pick up my broken pieces and put them back into place._ All better. _And sometimes I was calm.  Quiet and unnerving, like the calm before the storm.  The few moments before the beast awakes in a fiery, manic growl.  And you’d be there with me and we’d sit in a comfortable silence.  And then I was cool and logical and collected.  I was perfect down to every detail because there was no room for error.  And when I started crying because I had messed something up, or because I had decided to be human for just one minute, you were there.  And everything was still pretty rubbish, but whenever I looked into your blue-green-yellow eyes things would be okay, for just that moment._

_We fell in love and everything could have been perfect._

_But the tape you had used to fix my problems weakened, and everything fell apart, taking me with it.  I shattered into tiny fragile pieces and you weren’t there to help me pick things up anymore.   So I stayed broken._

_And you tried to_ _pick up my pieces again, but I broke even more, to the point where you couldn't handle it._

_I don't blame you for leaving me here._

_I just don't want to hurt you anymore._

_Please don't hate me when I push you away._

_Because I know that I can only let you be happy when I'm far, far away from you._

_\--Bear_

* * *

 When I was younger, I had a lot of trouble controlling my emotions.  There were two in particular: anger and sadness.  Sometimes, when these emotions hit me, I'd lose control and I wouldn't be able to stop my actions.  Anger washed over me, crashing at my feet, and I felt rage burning inside of my gut, making me want to scream.  I'd be mad at myself, mad at everyone, mad at everything. I used to take deep breaths and count to ten to stop myself from doing anything that I'd regret.  Yesterday was the first time I've felt that anger for a while.  All of those pent up emotions that weren't allowed to escape exploded out of me, and I took it out on Phil.  I'd told him how he'd left me, and how fucking  _awful_ I'd felt, and he said he was sorry. But sorry isn't good enough.  Sorry isn't good enough when I've been silently trapped in here, stuck with a roommate who can't decide whether he wants to rip me to pieces or be my best friend.  Sorry isn't good enough when I've not been able to speak for who knows how long as I'm afraid that I'm going to have to tell my whole life story to a stranger.  And I wanted to scream at him, to punch him, to hurt him physically the way he hurt me mentally because my anger engulfed me and I no longer felt anything but a deep rage.  

Sadness was a polar opposite to anger.  Sadness had an icy feel to it, whereas anger was as if I'd been set on fire.  Sadness filed me with a sense of hopelessness.  I felt like nothing was going to get better, and I'd blame myself.  I was not good enough, I was not perfect.  I needed to be perfect, so when I failed I crashed at my feet, along with my hopes and dreams.  It pulled at my heart first, poking and prodding, before it started to fill the rest of my body, like water filling a swimming pool.  Slowly, but surely.  And then I'd let it rush out in tears before it began filling up again.  I felt this fixed sadness as soon as I'd realised what had happened on the roof, and what it had led to.  And sometimes I wish I'd succeeded in getting rid of myself.  

 And then I found an outlet.  A calming, _horrible_ outlet.  I don't remember how it began. All I remember was the release of my feelings as the razor dragged across my skin, leaving a line of red in its wake. 

As soon as I'd realised what I'd done, I had been so terrified as I could no longer trust myself with my body. I couldn't tell anyone either, and the secret of what happened- what I did- stared weighing me down. 

I didn't stop. 

It was like I'd unlocked something inside of me, and I couldn't stop. 

And a couple of years ago, Phil found out. 

I remember it  _so_ clearly. 

It was late in December and I had been feeling terrible, as Phil had gone home to visit family before Christmas. Whenever I was left alone, my feelings got the best of me, and I lost control. 

It was like I had fallen into a dark place, no longer feeling anything, irrational thoughts and criticisms of myself driving me to the breaking point as it had done so much in the past. 

I had been "fixed"  for so long, I started to break.  The cracks in my foundation deepened, and out seeped all rational ideas.  

All I remember was the steady, calm numbness beating in my chest, a deep breath and a razor at my wrists.

When Phil got back, I was wearing a long sleeved jumper, thankful that it was winter, so Phil wouldn't question me. 

He had walked through the door looking radiant, and he'd smiled as soon as he saw me, his hands outstretched, inviting me into his embrace. I had ran into his arms and I had to fight back the tears because I had missed him so much. We had pulled away from the hug slightly, only to connect our lips. My lips were freezing, but it didn't mattter because his were warm enough for both of us. I had put my hands in his hair, and he had pulled at the hem of my sweater, and without thinking, I had pulled it off, only thinking of how much I had wanted Phil in that moment. 

He had gasped, instantly pulling away from me, and I had been confused for a moment. Then I realised that my wrists was bare and my eyes widened. I ran to my room and closed the door, tears falling fast because once more I'd messed up. I had put another jumper on, and I had sat on the bed, waiting for the inevitable to happen.  

Moments later, Phil had knocked on my door. 

"Dan?" He had said, "Can I come in?"

I had stayed silent. 

"Dan, please." He had pleaded, "I just want to talk to you."  

"Okay." I had said, my voice weak and hoarse from crying so much.  I had thought that he was going to break up with me.

He had walked in, and we were both silent.  He had sat on my bed, before pulling me into his arms.  I had let out a loud sob, pain reaching into my gut and twisting my insides as I felt him cry into my shoulder.  

"I'm sorry."  he had said.  "I'm so sorry, Dan."

* * *

Cat walked into my room in the afternoon.

"Sup, Danny-Boi?"  She said, sitting on my bed.  I looked vaguely offended for a second and she grinned.

"How are you this fine day?"  she said, clicking her fingers and pointing finger guns at me.  I frowned and gave her a nervous thumbs up.  

I opened my note-book on my nearly-finished Haru drawing.  

"Oh, is that finished yet?"  she said, and I shook my head.  

What I wanted to say was that it is in the every beautiful state of being not-finished.  Not-finished means that it can always be changed, altered and modified which is beautiful because there is a lot of beauty in impermanence.  What I wanted to say was that it isn't finished because art is limitless and saying that a drawing is finishing a drawing is like not going on the internet when I'm bored to me.  What I wanted to say was that I didn't even like the fucking picture because they eyes were all wrong and the face was too angular. 

Instead, I wrote  _Haru-chan_ at the top of the page and underlined it.  I then drew cherry blossom hanging from the letters, curling around the  _H_.  

"It's really good."  She said, and I shut my notebook.  

The friendly air between us seemed forced.  

"You haven't asked about the wifi yet,"  she said, "so I just brought the router here."

She plugged it into the wall and turned it on.  "Can I?"  she asked pointing to my computer.  I nodded.  "Great."  she replied, typing the password and other details.  "So,"  she said, after filling in what looked like a form, "you can get me or another one of the doctors to sign in, and we can specify the hours of internet you can get.  I've given you one hour for now."  I nodded.  "Here you go."  she said, handing the computer back.

I looked at the computer for a minute, before I quickly logged onto twitter, curious about how Phil had explained my sudden disappearance.  Cat left the room, probably to go and do some work.  

 

> **@AmazingPhil**
> 
> Sorry guys, **@danielhowell** is ill!  We won't be uploading gaming videos for a while now, but I'll upload a video tomorrow. 
>
>> **@phanalicia** replied to **@AmazingPhil**
>> 
>> **@danielhowell** get well soon!
>> 
>> **@biggestphaneva**  replied to **@AmazingPhil**
>> 
>> **@AmazingPhil** will you be doing live shows? 
>>
>>> **@AmazingPhil**  replied to **@biggestphaneva**
>>> 
>>> **@biggestphaneva** not for a while, sorry!
>> 
>> **@phanisreallol**  replied to **@AmazingPhil**
>> 
>> who else thinks it's their honeymoon
>> 
>> **@japhanroxxx**
>> 
>> **@danielhowell** we miss you xx 

All of the other comment were pretty much the same.  

I was thankful that Phil gave a reason for my disappearance, but it wasn't going to last.  The fans would figure something was wrong.  Sure, me being sick would explain my disappearance for a few days, But what would happen after a few weeks?  Or a few months?  Or a few years?  What would happen if I didn't make PINOF with Phil or if I stopped making videos altogether?  Sick couldn't explain that.  

I looked at my mentions and everyone was just asking where I was, so I decided to tweet something.  

> **@danielhowell**
> 
> The plague is upon us.  And by us I mean me.  Sorry for not uploading videos, but I still can't to get out of bed.  

I ignored the tsunami of replies that came in as soon as I tweeted, guilt curling up in my stomach, and began to log onto tumblr when I got a DM from Phil.

_hi._

I immediately felt like I had been transported back to when Phil first replied to one of my ~~many~~ replies on twitter.  My palms were sweaty as I replied. 

**hey**

And even though we were both older, mentally and physically, I felt as though it was the first time we had ever DM-ed each other, happy, excited and caught up in a teenage romance.   


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some homophobic language. i did sensor it.  
> suicide attempt  
> The message to Phil (albeit the last line) is from _Dead inside_ by Muse  
>  _Italics_ means that it's a memory (except from when they are dming each other  
>  The _italics_ (In the second section) are dos from phil and the **bold** are dms from Dan

That time on top of the roof wasn't the first time I tried to take my life.  The first time had happened in 2012, and it was late at night, a few days after the Valentines Day Video.  I had moved out of the apartment, and I had been staying at a hotel near the Thames.  

_I had just posted a video, and I was scrolling through the comments, liking a couple of meme-related one, when I came across a comment._

 

 

 

> _LOLimNOtHOtanyMOre_  
>  _lol ur a gay f**got.  ur lif is stupid, lk no one cares.  just kill urself lol.  the world wud be bettr withut u._

_I knew it was just a comment.  A stupid, no good comment from someone who probably spent their time laughing at toddlers hurting themselves and spitting at dogs.  But it had 250 likes.  250 people thought that I'd be better off dead._

_I didn't know what was happening.  One minute I was reading comments, and the next minute I was writing a note to Phil. I tried to write something meaningful:  a note that would tell Phil that I was sorry.  But I couldn't.  I knew that there would be no way to give it to Phil_ _anyway, and he wouldn't care.  Not after I had shouted and screamed horrible,_ horrible _, things at him, telling him that I had never loved him, and that he had ruined everything._

_He would be better off without me._

_Next thing I knew I was on a bridge by the Thames.  I was hanging around near the edge, looking at everyone around me._

_Suddenly, I was filled with the need to say goodbye.  The need to tell everyone something:  to make the last thing I said to them important._

_My mind was blank and racing at the same time._

I need to say goodbye. 

_I took out my phone and opened messages._

To PJ  
Perhaps one day we'll meet once more  
A sun filled sky with fields of sheep  
You made me happy, were never a bore  
Our memories are yours to keep. 

To Adrian  
I'm remembering the time we all went to get chips by the pier.  I was six, and you and mum and dad were on holiday with me, for my birthday.  We got vanilla ice-cream and fish and chips.  And even though the fish smelt bad, the chips were too salty and the ice-cream had melted way before we ate it, we all chomped down on our meal, happy that we were eating as a family.    
Take care of Mum for me.   
I know we don't talk anymore, but stay strong, okay?

To Chris  
See ya in hell, you todger  
   
To Phil  
You're free to touch the sky  
Whilst I am crushed and pulverized  
Because you need control  
Now I'm the one who's letting go  
You like to give an inch  
Whilst I am giving infinity  
But now I've got nothing left  
You have no cares and I'm bereft  
(I love you more than I love Muse)

_This was it.  My heart hammered against my chest as I stepped towards the edge._

_This was it.  A stream of emotions rushed out of me: fear, clarity, sadness and a need to jump._

_I felt obliged to tell someone, that this was the day I was going to die, but I didn't, knowing that they would've tried to talk me out of it.  Maybe part of me wanted someone to do so.  Maybe part of me wanted someone, a stranger, to try and convince me that life was worth living, and that the world was better with me in it.  But I didn't move, and neither did anyone else._

_And finally, love had filled me as I thought of Phil, ready to jump.  In my mind I was making everyone's lives better._

_My phone started ringing._

_And against my better judgement, I answered it._

_"Hello?"  I said._

_"_ Dan? _"  I could hear the fear and worry trembling inside of Phil's voice, "_ Dan, where the hell are you? _"_

_"Nowhere, why?"_

_"_ Dan, where are you? Please tell me!  PJ, Chris and I have all had these messages, god, please, tell me where you are! _"_

_"I'm just on a walk!"  I insisted, "I'm not doing anything!"_

_"_ Dan, I'm sorry!  I'm sorry for everything!  Please, tell me where you are.  I love you! _"_

_And in that moment I knew that I couldn't keep it from him._

_"I'm near the Thames."  On any other day this could have been perfectly normal.  But we both knew what was hidden behind my words.  Phil knew that I was about to jump._

_"_ What?!  Don't move, stay on the line! _"_

_A few minutes later I had seen him running towards me, and he had put his arms around me._

_"Don't ever do that again."  He had said, tears streaming down his face, "Please, Dan, I love you.   Oh my god, if you had...  Dan!"  I had put my arms around him and comforted him as he cried into my shoulder._

_And I had promised myself that I wouldn't put Phil through that pain again._

_But promises are only the lies we want to keep._

* * *

_how are you?_  

**i'm okay**

_i miss you_

**you saw me yesterday**

_okay, okay, no need to be so cold_

**maybe being locked up here has affected me**

_are you still going on about that?  i said i'm sorry!_

**and you said you loved me!  i guess i just no longer believe you!**

_what do you mean dan, of course i love you!_

**then why did you lock me up in here!**

_well, what do you expect me to do?  you were about to jump!  if I hadn't held you back..._

**of course, all i am is a hinderance.**

_why do you have to take everything i say the wrong way?  you aren't a hinderance!  i love you._

**yet you sent me away.**

_i feel as though we're just going round and round in circles here._

**we are!**

_because you won't let this go!_

**i'll let it go when i turn into elsa and move to norway with my sister anna.**

_dan, you are being impossible_

**don't use my name like that**

_like what_

**like i'm a child.  i'm your BOYFRIEND phil, not your kid**

_it would be weird if you were my kid_

**let's not think about that...** _  
_

_okay._

_i love you_

**i love you too**

**but i'm still mad at you**

_FOR GOD'S SAKE!_

* * *

  _I didn't plan for it to happen again._

_Seeing the hurt in Phil's eyes- hurt that I had caused- was enough to make me want to stay alive.  I had even considered getting professional help, but in the end I decided against it as I was ready.   But it didn't matter because I had Phil, and I knew that as long as I had him I would be fine._

_The first time I tried to kill myself, it felt as though something inside of me clicked.  As though a switch in my brain had been flipped, and I was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to self-destruct._

_The second time was not like that at all.  Instead of an instantaneous need to die, it grew inside of me like a monster gnawing away at my happiness.  It was thoughts slowly seeping into my brain:_ You should do it _, they taunted,_ it would be better for everyone involved. _It was me silently screaming for help, but no one hearing me._

 _And I tried_ so hard _to kill myself that day._

_I was on the rooftop, and Phil was away: he had gone to buy cereal among other things._

_And I was going to jump._

_I slowly walked to the edge:  there was no need to rush things.   This was my death, after all, and I was savouring it.  Not in a masochistic way, but so that_   _every step I took was filled with the thought of making everyone's lives better._

_I didn't text anyone this time.  Instead, I had left a note on the kitchen counter saying my goodbyes to everyone.  It was next to my will.  I had left everything for Phil, except for some money which I left to Adrian._

_And I was about to step off when I heard a gasp behind me, and someone running towards me.  I stepped closer to the edge, this time walking faster because I knew that it was now or never._

_But it was too late._

_They grabbed my arms and pulled me back._

_"Let me do it!"  I begged, tears streaming down my face, "Please...I just... I can't."_

_I collapsed to the floor, crying._

_He wrapped his arms around me and I inhaled his raspberry scent._

_I turned to face him, tears running down my cheeks, and his eyes were filled with pain._

Why?   _I could practically hear him_ _think,_ Why did you do this?  

_His eyes screamed these questions at me._

_But instead he stayed silent, and I leaned in, because now, more than ever, I needed him._

_I pressed my lips to him and he kissed me back harder, trying to convey unspoken words through our kiss.  We needed each other.  I was broken, but he was there to fix me, to hold me together, because he wanted to be, because he_  loved  _me.  Unconditionally._

_But then he pulled away, too early, too quickly.  The cold washed over me, and I felt his warmth get dragged away from me._

_"I love you Dan," He had said, "but I can't watch you destroy yourself."_

_And then the police showed up._

* * *

 

I was meeting Dr. Anderson today.  He's a fairly young doctor, probably in his late twenties, and he has been my "personal therapist" for however long I've been in this place.  He reminds me of Ryan from  _High School Musical_ , because he looks a hell of a lot like him.  Hell, just looking at him makes me want to sing  _Bop to the Top_.  He has golden, blonde hair and washed out blue eyes.  Despite looking really young, he shows signs of tiredness:  bags under his eyes, worry lines drawn onto his face.  

"Good Morning, Dan!"  He says cheerily as I walk into morning therapy.  

Morning Therapy is something that the Institution (or Hell-Hole, as I had dubbed it) encouraged.  It's mandatory for everyone to partake in once a week, like group therapy.  We were all assigned therapists who we can see as often or as little as we want, so long as we comply with the rules.  

Just as expected, he began the little "speech" he said at the start of every lesson, "You don't need to feel pressured to say anything you don't want to whilst I'm here.   You can join in with my discussion as much or as little as you like, the priority here is your comfort.  If you feel pressured at all, tell me and I will lay off a bit."

I nod, not taking in a word he was saying. 

"Great!  So, yesterday I was there when you met that young lad, what was his name?"

 _Phil_ , I think, not looking up,  _And he's older than you._

"Was it Phil Lester?"

I nod slowly, biting my lip slightly.  

"Okay."  He pauses for a second, waiting for a reaction from me.  

I twiddle my thumbs.  

"You spoke!"  He says, full of fake enthusiasm.  I can tell that he was trying to get a reaction from me (having a selectively mute patient mustn't be fun), but he isn't going to be winning an Oscar any time soon.  "How do you feel about speaking to Mr. Lester?"

 _Don't say his name_ , I want to say,  _You have no right to say his name.  He is none of your business._

He must have noticed my dark expression, but he misinterprets it, "You shouted at him yesterday.  You seemed quite mad at him."

I shrug my shoulders.  

"You left the visitor room, which was shocking.  We had to get Dr. Richmond to find out where you were.  She refused to disclose what you were doing, but she said that nothing bad was going on."

I stay silent, happy that Cat hadn't shared the fact that I had been snogging my visitor.  

"If it's okay with you, we'd like you to meet him again." 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some homophobic language towards the end of the chapter but there than that it should be fine!

"Hi."  He says, walking in the room, looking as gorgeous as ever.  His hair has been tamed into an impeccably neat fringe, swished to one side, and he's grinning at me. His smile lights up his whole face, shining right through his blue,  _blue_ eyes. 

How did I _ever_ think that I could stay mad at him?

I wave at him and smile sheepishly, staring at the floor.  I feel as though I've been transported back to when we met at the train station on that first day:  I was young and shy, he was bold and absolutely radiant.  He still is, even though we've both aged.  

He walks over to me, and places his hand under my chin, lifting my face up ever so gently so that I'm looking in his eyes.  He leans in to kiss me, and I turn my head slightly so that he kisses my cheek.  He frowns at me so I tilt my head in the direction of the scientists watching us, as if to say  _People are looking_.  He rolls his eyes at me and captures my lips.  

Fireworks don't begin to describe it.  

His lips are warm against my cold ones, and he's pushing me into a wall, one hand in my hair, the other on my waist, holding me clothes to him.  I move my hands from my pockets to around his waist and pull him closer to me, because all of a sudden I  _need_ him.  I need him to be close to me, to hold me, to touch me, to kiss me, to love me.  I need him to hold me together.  

I need him because when he's away from me it's like a weight has been pressed into my chest.  It's like I'm not breathing until he's around me, even though my lungs burn as they beg for oxygen.  

I need him because I'm so  _goddamn_ in love with him.  

He pulls away, but not to far.  We're so close to each other we're breathing the same air.  "Hi."  he says.  

I grin and pull him for another kiss, just as desperate and as passionate as before.  I spin us around so that I'm pressing him up against the bleak grey wall.  He bites my lip and I kiss harder, both of us completely and utterly in sync.  

He pulls away again. 

"I've missed this."

"Me too."  I reply.  My voice is a whisper so that the doctors can't hear me.  Currently, my back is facing them.

"I love you."  He says, "I'm sorry, Dan.  I'm so sorry for bringing you here."  

"Doesn't matter."  I whisper, "You're here now.  S'all that matters."  

"I love you."

"I love you too." I reply and I lean in for another kiss.  This time I play with the hem of his shirt with my left hand, my right travelling under it.  "I. Love. You. So. Much."  I whisper, punctuating each word with a kiss.  He grins at me.  I kiss him again, deeply this time.  I tug at his shirt, as if to say  _off with it_ , but before he can move, we hear a sharp tap on the window behind us. 

We jump apart, bright red as we remember that we have company.  Company that has just watched us make out for the past few minutes.  

One of the doctors leaves that room, and a few minutes later enter the visiting room. 

"Mr. Howell, we'd appreciate it if you didn't eat your boyfriend's face whilst we're watching." she says, as Phil and I turn a brighter shade of red (if that's possible). I nod, my face full of regrets.  

"Sorry."  Phil says sheepishly.  He pauses before asking, "Why do you guys have to watch us anyway?"

"Just in case you give Dan any razors or anything else that could cause him harm."  she replies. 

"What?"  Phil replies, "I would never-"

"I know that you probably wouldn't do that, but we don't take risks here.  An incident happened with another patient when we weren't looking, and we aren't going to let that happen again." Her cool voice echoes around the room and I instinctively step closer to Phil.  If she dares to say something that insinuates anything bad about him, I'll...

"But can't you like, I dunno, security check us or something?"  Phil asks, breaking my chain of thought as he presses his shoulder against mine slightly.  

"Things have been snuck past us before.  And anyway, we don't so security checks:  this isn't a prison."

"Sure feels like it."  I mutter under my breath.  Phil snorts besides me, and then tries to cover it up with a cough.  He fails miserably, and the doctor does not look impressed.  

"If it happens again, we will be forced to ban visits from Mr. Lester."  

I glare at her as she walks out.   

"What a bitch."  I whisper in Phil's ear, and he giggles.  "What?"  I say.

"S'nothing."

"Tell me."  I say, playfully poking his side. 

"Alright.  You're breath is tickling my neck."

"What, like this?"  I say, feigning innocence as I make my words extra breathy on purpose.  

"Sto-op!"  He says, flinching.  

"Sure thing."  I say, not stopping at all.  

"Ugh, I hate you."

"You don't." I say pulling away from his neck and looking into his blue,  _blue_ eyes.

"I know."

* * *

 We ended up sitting next to each other on the floor leaning against the wall, because sitting opposite each other on chairs was not very "Dan-And-Phil".  Plus there was too much distance between us.  

"This doesn't mean,"  I whisper, not wanting the doctors to hear me, "that I am good.  Or that we are good."

"What are we then?"  He asks, frowning. 

"We are okay.  We aren't good, we aren't bad, we're okay.  And I think we should enjoy being in the act of being okay."

"Dan..."

"At the end of the day, I'm still stuck in here.  At the end of the day we can never go back to the way we were because too many things has happened."

"Why?"

"Do you think that we can go back to being whatever we were now that all of this shit has happened?"  I whisper-shout, "I love you.  Truly.  But now whenever you look at me, I can only see you judging me.  Thinking I'm broken."

"Dan, that's not-"

"I know that it's not true!"  I say, "I know that you are too  _goddamn_ kind to let that kind of thought cross your mind!  But what can I do?"  I avoid looking into his eyes.  Instead I focus on his purple shirt.  "I've spent  _so much_ of my life doubting myself,"  I whisper, on the verge of tears, "that I don't think I can stop."

"Dan..."

"I'm sorry."  I whisper, sniffing slightly.  He pulls me closer to him, and I lean into is embrace.  

"You are here so that you can let go of these thoughts, these _doubts_ that trap you every day.  But you won't be able to do that if you don't talk to someone."  

I look at him now.  He looks genuinely concerned, but I don't care.  "I'm scared, Phil."  I say, "I don't want to tell anyone, I don't want to get better.  I just want to be allowed to live my life and be depressed sometimes and I just want that to be okay.  Yes, I have problems that need to be solved, but I don't want to spill my life out to someone I barely know."

"But Dan, you'll never get better."

"So?  I only need you to love me, and that would be enough."

"And what if you try to commit suicide again?" Phil says, his voice cracking slightly, "I can't imagine what... I can't be without you Dan.  I need to fix this."

I take a deep breath, and say in a low voice, "Nothing about me needs to be fixed, because I am not broken."  I say.

"Dan, no, I didn't-"

"I am not broken." I repeat, like I'm trying to convince myself of the fact.   _I am not_ _broken_ I repeat in my head.  "I need to be alone."  I decide, wanting some time to think.  

"I love you, Dan."  Phil says, but I've already left the room. 

* * *

  _It's 2009 and I am eighteen years old.  I'm pacing around my room, incredibly nervous, because Phil has just told me that he wants to see me in person.  I immediately said yes, and now I have to tell my parents._

_My parents are fairly traditional.  They don't really know much about the internet, so I plan to use that to my advantage._

_"Mum?"  I say, walking into the living room, "Dad?  Can I speak to you?"_

_"Sure thing, son."  My dad replied._

_"Um, you know how I'm planning on going to Manchester University?  I want to go there this weekend to check it_ _out."  This is a lie, but it might be something that'll make my parents allow me to go._

_"Dan, we can't get you tickets, they'd be so expensive at this time."_

_"Well, you see, my friend from Manchester, he has already bought tickets and said that I could stay with him for the weekend."_

_"And who is this friend?"_

_"He's a guy I met online."  I say._

_"Online?"  My mum asks incredulously, "Have you even met him on real life?"_

_"Well, we've been skyping of a while, so-"_

_"Well, that's not the bloody same as actually meeting someone."  My dad says._

_"You can't go.  I don't want you borrowing money and staying at some strange man's house."  My mum says._

_"But please!"  I reply, "I really want to see him in real life."_

_"Why is that?"_

_"Because I really like him!"  I shout and the room falls silent.  My parents don't know that I'm gay._

_"'Like' him?"  My mum asks, "As in romantically?"_

_I nod slowly, unable to lie for some reason._

_"Go to your room."  Dad says, "I didn't raise my son to be a faggot."_

_I bite back the tears as I walk upstairs and I skype Phil.  He doesn't say anything when he picks up because he sees me crying.  Instead, he just smiles at me and for some reason I feel happy.  I feel happy because Phil is my safe place._

_He breaks the silence, "What happened?"  he asks, "If you don't want to talk about it, you can tell me."_

_I smile through the tears because he is so considerate, "I might have accidentally come out to my parents."  I say, looking away from the camera._

_"Oh.  I guess they didn't take it well?"_

_"No."  I reply, "My dad called me a- he called me a faggot, Phil."_

_"No."  Phil said, "How_ dare  _he?  Dan. listen to me, there is nothing wrong with liking boys like that, okay?"_

_"I know that!"  I reply, "It's just that I can never please them.  It's always something I haven't done right.  And with things like this, I need my parents to support me.  I need my parents to tell me that it's okay and I can love whoever I want because that is so much more important to me than anything else."_

_"What is?"_

_"My parents accepting me.  I need them to love me."_

_"They do love you."_

_"Only because they have to.  If they weren't my parents they'd be happy to shove me out of their lives."_

_"Well, if they don't want you, it's their loss because you're amazing."_

_"I thought that was supposed to be you?"  I said, making the obvious pun about his username._

_He laughed before saying, "How did Adrain react?"_

_"He wasn't there.  But it doesn't matter, I came out to him years ago._

_I smile at him again. He smiles back and everything is okay.  “Thank you for letting me talk to you.  Sorry I was a mess.”  I say, rubbing at my eyes._

_“There’s no problem,” Phil said, “and you weren’t a mess.  You reacted better than I would have in that situation._

_We spent the rest of the night talking to each other, my parents long forgotten.  The next day I would have to face them, but for now I didn’t need to think about anything but Phil._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _italics_ are memories  
>  **trigger warning: SELF-HARM. please do not read if this is at all triggering to you. description of someone being strangled- not too graphic.**

_I just want to be happy._

The thought crosses my mind as I lay awake in the bed that they provide for the patients.  It's made out of plastic and metal and it's uncomfortable against my back, and different parts of it are digging into my neck.  I am awake, _alive_ , as the rest of the country sleep, peacefully without thought.  My mind is racing as I lie still in the sea of white that is my bed.  

I am awake,  _alive_.  

There's irony in the fact that a boy who wants to die is feeling alive.  

Or maybe there's just something in the water supply.  

 _I just want to be happy and with Phil._ I think, although the two go hand-in-hand.  There is not one without the other.  There is no happiness without Phil, and Phil himself is happiness embodied.  It may be unhealthy that I rely on him so much, but when one person seems to love you throughout everything, you depend on him.  Or at least that's how I react. 

I was without love for so long.  Now I can't live without it.  

I'm not saying that my parents didn't love me.  Of course not.  My parents just had a feeling of disappointment when they looked at me.  I tried to be perfect, and I wasn't good enough, so I stopped trying.  And then the disappointment turned into a longing for another son, and so my brother was made.  

There's nothing that tells you 'you're not good enough' than your parents saying "You're not good enough."  

But I'd hope that you would have figured that out.  

But my parents aren't the whole problem.  

It's mainly the depression.

The problem with depression (or at least depression in my case) is that it changes every so often.  The gist of it stays the same- I still feel sad, but sometimes the levels vary.  Sometimes I just feel empty, a shell, unable and unwilling to feel.  Other times I feel like I'm filled to the brim with so much sadness that everything hurts.  My lungs burn and my chest burns and I can't think straight as I am overwhelmed with a sea of emotion, drawing out my cries.  Another kind of sadness I feel is just a white-hot, blinding rage.  The hate, rage and guilt builds up in me, slowly, like a kettle boiling over.  The anger, the pain and the sadness are inevitable but I am not shocked when they arrived because if there is one good thing about the inevitable, it will always happen.  And then there's the urge to self destruct.  The endgame.  The idea that I am not good enough and I will never be.  The idea that the best thing for me to do would be to die.  But Phil's always held me back.  he has been a safety net since 2009. (Well, he's been more than that.  I could talk about Phil for years and never run out of things to say).

Then there is the sadness that I have caught myself in tonight is a hopeful kind of sadness.  A longing hidden under the sadness, but still present.  The calm kid of sadness.  The calm before the storm. 

The silence rings as my thoughts fill the room.  

A picture of someone perfect creeps into my mind.

_Phil..._

* * *

"Sup, Silent Sam." Repeat says as I walked into our room.  "See that, it's _alliteration_."

I roll my eyes at him.  Of course I fucking know what alliteration is.

"Did Cat say anything to you?"  Reaper asked, "About me?"

I shake my head.  

"You know, she takes a liking to you.  Always wants to talk to you."  Reaper says, walking towards me.  

I shake my head.  

"But she's _mine_." He said, venom dripping from his voice, " _Mine._ "

I step backwards and my back presses into the wall.  

"You can't take her, okay?  She is the only reason I'm staying in this place!"  And in that moment I saw the real Reaper.   Not the oblivious lovesick puppy in love with anyone.  Not the asshole who liked to make fun of me.  Not even the guy who shares in fear at night, from nightmares.  Not the person who wakes up sweating, and looking around so desperately that I pretend to be asleep even though I rarely am.  I see a maniac.  I see someone who is so scared of losing things, who is so scared of not being good enough that I feel sorry for him.  

"She's the only reason I'm still fighting to live in this shitty, messed-up world."  He says.  And, I begin to do something that I never thought I could do.  I'm relating to him.  I am understanding his position in this shitty, messed-up world, because I'm in the same place.  If it wasn't for Phil...

If it wasn't for Phil I wouldn't be here right now.  I wouldn't be anywhere at all.  

And then, he presses me against the wall and wraps his hand around my throat.  "Stay  _away_."  He says, "Stay away from her.  She's  _mine_."

His hands are suffocating around my neck, his rough skin rubbing against my own.  His calloused hands are keeping me pressed against the wall and I'm trying to pry his fingers off, but nothing is working.  He has a deadly grip.  

_If I don't do something now, he's going to kill me._

"Stop."  I say, my voice a weak whisper.  He drops me out of sheer shock, as he doesn't expect me to speak.  

"I- You- Wha- You can speak?!"  he says in shock.

"Of course I can."  I say, massaging my neck, "What do you think I do in visitor time or whatever the fuck they call it?  Telepathically communicate?"

"No, I thought you could sign or something."

I shake my head.  "I don't speak because I do want to.  But what the hell do you expect me to do when you're fucking strangling me?"

He looks at the ground, "Sorry..."  he mumbles. 

I shrug, "There isn't anything going on with me and Cat.  Trust me.  My visitor, he's my boyfriend."

"Oh."  Reaper said, "I didn't know you were..."  he trailed off, slightly pink.  

I shrug.

"I've got nothing against it though."  He says.

I chuckle to myself, because this is just an awkward situation, and for once I'm not the one having to get out of it.  

He still doesn't meet my eye.  "How long have you been together?"

"Eight years."

"Wow."  

I walk past him and sit cross-legged on my bed and open my laptop.  

"I'm gonna..."  he motions towards the door.  

I nod.  

* * *

It became a rhythm.  My self-harming, that is.

It became a calm and collected, perfectly timed dance.  

It became me, almost weekly, sitting in my bathroom, a razor to my wrists, my legs, my stomach.  

It became scratching at the scars when I was guilty.

It became wearing long-sleeved sweaters in the summer.

It became a habit.  A need.  A want. 

 _It was a late night.  The air was thick and humid, and I was sitting on the cool tiles on the_ _bathroom floor.  I was sitting, my back pressed against the walls, my face in my knees, crying.  I was crying silently, my throat stinging with the pain and my heart aching with hurt._

_I pulled the sleeve of my jumper up._

_There were quite a few scars there, too big to be hidden by band-aids.  Some were reddish, quite fresh.  Others were healing, or half-healed, half scratched at.  Others were scars, standing out against my white flesh._

_They reminded me of how much of a fuck-up I was._

_I reached into the cabinet under the sink.  I picked up a box of "tampons".  Phil and I kept these for when girls visit our apartment, so I knew that no one would touch them.  I reached inside the box, and it was empty, except for a razor._

_The metal was cool and I was calm, despite the tears streaming down my face.  My mind was almost blank as I brought the blade to my wrists._

_I ran the blade across my skin._

_Once._

Twice.

_Then, as if I'd had a sudden epiphany, I tensed up and threw the blade across the bathroom, sobbing into my jumper._

_I was a fuck-up, I was broken, I was a mess._

_I just sat there, alone.  A boy with blood on his wrists.  That’s all I was in that moment.  Just a helpless boy sitting in on a bathroom floor._

* * *

Reaper storms into our room, dragging Cat behind him.  Cat has a bruise just below her eye and tears streaming down her face.  She pulls at her sleeves so that she can try and wipe the tears away.  Reaper sits her down on his bed.  

"Asshole."  he says, "What a fucking  _asshole_!  How dare he lay a hand on you?  How dare he punch you?"  

My mouths drop open and I rush to Cat's side.   _Are you okay_ _?_ I try to say with my eyes.  

"I'm fine."  She says, "This place is just run by pricks."

I frown at her in confusion.  

"These people are not who they say they are,"  she says, "these people are  _sick_ ,  _twisted,_ _horrible_ people who don't deserve anything they get."  Her voice was bitter and full of loathing.  Not once in my life had I seen anyone this full of hate for anyone else.   It was like the very thought of the people who ran this place sent her blood boiling, made her want to scream and pull her hair out.  It was like the anger just consumed her, snatching rational thought and logic away from her, until she was a white-hot pit of anger.  

"They trick your relatives, saying that they're a 'good, happy place for you to live', and that they can 'fix your problems'.  They don't give a shit about any of that!"  she continues, her voice venomous, "They just want your money for their own  _sick_ mind games."  Her fists are clenched so hard that her knuckles are white, almost translucent, "They don't  _care_ about you lot.  They only care about their enjoyment.  They brought you here under the pretence of making you feel better.  Instead they're jus observing how the mentally ill react to different situations.  Your therapist wasn't assigned to you because he's best suited to you.  He doesn't even have a medical degree!  He was assigned to you because he was probably the person who you would relate to the least."  she said, looking me in the eyes, before turning to Reaper, "Reaper, they don't give you medicine for a peaceful sleep because they aren't allowed to.  They don't have the rights to medicine.  When your boyfriend," she says, turning back to me, "first asked to visit, they didn't allow him to, because they knew how much you depended on him, from watching your videos.  They know everything about you, and they exploited that.  They wanted to see you writhe around without the person you loved most.  When the first heard you talk, they were over the moon!  I thought it was because they were happy that you were getting better, but no, now I find out that they were happy to finally see you do something.  They had the audacity to say that they were getting bored of you!  And you know that girl, Julianna?  From that group therapy session?  She's am _actress_!  She was paid to pretend to have anorexia.  It's just sick!"

She takes a deep breath, "Do you want to know why I am so angry?"

Reaper and I nod.  

"I'm angry because I knew fuck-all about this.  I'm angry because I came here with good intentions, I came here wanting to help people who needed help.  Instead, I'm part of a group of fuckers who don't give a shit about anyone but themselves!  And when I try to leave, they fucking give me a black eye!"  

"Can't they be fired, y'know, for lying?"  Reaper says.

"Nope."  Cat replies bitterly, "They've covered their asses.  They have figured out every loophole.  Surprisingly, what they're doing is legal."

"That's fucked up."  Reaper says, and I nod in agreement, "We need to get out of here,"  he then says, "You, me and Silent Sam over here.  I can't call him Mute Mike anymore, because, he isn't technically mute."  

I roll my eyes, as Cat says, "Wait, you know that he can speak?  How?"

"He spoke to me."

"Why?"

"I might have strangled him a bit."

"WHAT?"

"Oh, it's fine.  Honestly, Sam doesn't even care."  I nod in agreement, despite the name he called me.  

"Fine then.  Also, there's a thing called selective mutism.   It means that he chooses not to speak."  

I wave my hands in front of their faces to remind them that I am, in fact, right here, in front of them.  Cat apologises and Reaper shrugs.  

"What were you saying about getting out of here?"  Cat said. 

"I don't know, but we need to leave.  We can't save everyone, but we can save ourselves."

"Isn't that selfish?"

"It is, but there's not another option."  Reaper turns to me, "You in, Sam?"  

I nod, and Cat whispers to me, "He does knows that your name is Dan, right?"  

I shake my head and we both start laughing.  Reaper joins in, even though he's oblivious to why we are laughing, because he's just a blundering idiot sometimes.  


	7. Chapter 7

_It's happening again._

_Something - a darkness - is edging it's way into my body, lodging itself in my heart, and it's choking me, and it' s clouding my brain, and_ _I can't **think**_ **.** _Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that I can think but every thought is a blur rushing through my brain so fast that I can't comprehend it._

_And the thoughts I can comprehend?  I don't want to hear them._

_But they pull at my brain anyway._

_The darkness doesn't settle.  It never does.  It isn't like fog on a misty morning, creeping in at six AM and dispersing by noon.  It isn't like a lesson, dull and boring until the bell rings and you wonder what was so bad about it anyway.  It's like an unwanted guest residing in your brain, whispering things to you, unimaginable things, things that you wouldn't say to your worst enemy.  It hangs over you like a black cloud, each jeer hitting you like hail._

_And you can't stop it.  You'd be stupid to try._

_You can't run away.  You can't hide._

_You can try your best to ignore it (although sometimes that is impossible) and hope that it passes soon._

_There is always light at the end of the tunnel._

_They never tell you that there's another tunnel straight after._

* * *

_it's almost as if_  
_i have a permanent_  
_lump in my throat_  
_for me to use_  
_whenever i am_  
_too weak_  
_too stressed_  
_too broken_

* * *

_I'm just lying there.  On my own._

_I can't move - I don't_ **_want_ ** _to move._

_The darkness is engulfing me and swallowing me from the inside simultaneously._

_And I_

_can't_

_breathe._

* * *

_my lover is so alive_  
_his eyes burn bright_  
_blazing blue in the firelight_  
_its colours flicking_  
_from green to blue to yellow_  
_his smile could light_  
_a million lanterns to fill the sky_  
_and i could look at it_  
_for days upon days upon days_  
_and his heart beats wildly_  
_and it pulses behind_  
_his pale chest_  
_beating against the bars_  
_that make up his ribcage_  
_and it's trying to break free_  
_my lover is so alive_  
_he got my share of it_

* * *

_He doesn't let me stay there.  Of course he doesn't._

_He opens the curtains in an attempt to let the sunshine in, oblivious to the fact that he brightened the room just by walking into it._

_He smiles down at me._

_I pretend to sleep._

_One half yearns for him; it screams and tries to pull itself away from my body in an attempt to hug him, to kiss him, to love_ _him.  It wants to have him hold me so that he might chase away the darkness and pull my broken pieces that lie in my bed together.  It wants him to_ **_stay_ ** _and it wants him to be near me at all times._

_The other half chides me:  'Your co-dependency is beyond stupid, it's sickening.'  It says, 'It's unnatural.  He doesn't even want to be here.  He's only doing this to be polite.  He doesn't want to hug, kiss or love a burden.  He doesn't want to hug, kiss or love_ **_you_ ** _.  Who would?'_

_My body is battling against_ _heart and seemingly broken mind._

_Mind always wins._

_I stay in bed and he sits there, me pretending not to acknowledge him._

_'Phil, Phil, Phil...'_

**_'Burden, burden, burden...'_ **

* * *

_i find comfort_  
_in your smile_  
_if only i allowed_  
_myself to call it mine_

* * *

_A weight is pressing into my chest._

_It's familiar but not comforting.  It's well-known but not wanted._

_It's consuming me and pushing itself into my heart and tearing it apart in the process and it's filling up my chest and pulling the air out of my lungs and I can't **do** anything._

**_Deep breaths._ **

**_In.  Out.  In.  Out._ **

_He walks into the room again.  He grins at me and opens the curtains, letting in the wanted and unwanted light._

_"Dan?" he said, and his expression was serious- almost sad._

_I peeked out from underneath the piles of blankets that I was swamped in._

_"I have to tell you something."  
_

_The wait presses further into me, now paired with panic forcing itself into my mind._

**_Deep breaths._ **

**_In.  Out.  In.  Out._ **

_"I may or may not have accidentally eaten your cereal this morning."_

_The weight lifts a little and I can finally breathe again._

_I manage a small smile for half a second and Phil beams down at me, knowing that in this mood it's equal to my laughter ricocheting around the room._

* * *

_Inevitably the darkness passes._

_Relief floods through my body coursing through my veins as I don't feel empty anymore._

_Phil notices and grins at me when I get out of bed and join him for dinner, watching and commenting on a stupid rom-com that we decided to watch whilst cuddled up together on the couch.  He kisses my forehead and I smile._

_Until next time, darkness_

* * *

The next day we begin to plan.  Cat decided that it was best for us to have a night to sleep on it and think about our plan and  _I don't care if you don't sleep, Dan, I'm fucking tired_.  

I wonder about how tired she actually was when she bursts into our room at eight AM, smiling at us like Lord know's what.

"So, guys, we have a lot of work to do!"  She says, pressing her hands together, "I can't wait to get out of here, so let's start."  Her voice was soft yet excited. 

Reaper looks at me.  Then he looks at Cat.  Then back at me.  "How the actual  _fuck_ can she be so perky this early in the morning?"  He whispers to me, "The sun hasn't even fucking woken up!" 

I nod in agreement before yanking the covers over my head. 

"Come on, wake up,"  She says, uncurling the end of my duvet burrito and lightly shaking my arm in an attempt to wake me up, "Let's start brainstorming."

Reaper groans dramatically.  

"Fine."  he says. 

"Okay, so we need a plan to get me out of here and then afterwards to get you out of here."  She says matter-of-factly.  It's quite odd to hear her talk in a tone that isn't gentle. 

"Wait, why do we need to leave separately?"  Reaper asks. 

"Because it'll look too suspicious if we leave at the same time."

"Okay." He says, "How will you get out of here?  I don't think they'll be happy with you just waltzing out of here."

She frowns, trying to come up with an idea.  They sit in silence for a while, Reaper stroking his non-existent beard until Cat lightly pulls his hand away.  Reaper pouts, and she frowns, smiling to herself.  

I ship it.

"How,"  I say quietly, "How can you get fired?" 

Both of them whip their heads around to look at me, surprised that I had spoken. "What do you mean?" Cat says. 

"You can't just leave:  you need them to fire you."

"You're right!"  She says, "But the only way to do that is to partake in 'serious misconduct'."

"What does that include?"  Reaper asked.

"I don't know."

"What about a patient-doctor relationship?"  He suggests. 

"What?"  she said, "I can't do that!  That goes against all of my morals!"

"Why?" he said, "All you have to do is be caught kissing me and  _boom_!  Serious misconduct!"

"He does have a point..."  I say.

"I can't kiss _you_." she mumbles, blushing slightly. 

"Well, I can't pretend that that didn't feel like you stabbed me." Reaper says and I roll my eyes.

"It has to be Reaper because you can only kiss someone who's in on the plan.  We can't wait for you to make someone else fall in love with you only for Reaper to beat them up before you have a chance to get caught.  And you can't kiss me because I have a boyfriend who I love more than anything in the world.  I'm not going to kiss anyone else."

"Oh yeah, I forgot I walked in on you two."

I chuckle stiffly, embarrassed that she bought up that repressed memory.  

"What's so wrong with kissing me?!"  Reaper asks.

"Nothing is _wrong_ with kissing you."  Cat says, and I feel as though she wants to say something else, but I don't pursue it. 

"So then why are you opposed to it?"

I can tell that Cat is really uncomfortable.  "Let's stop." I say,  "So the plan to get Cat out of here is to make her get "caught" with Reaper.  What next?"

Cat was about to say something, but the door opened, interrupting her. 

"Oh, Dr. Richmond, I didn't know that you were here!"  Dr. Anderson says, walking into the room, "I would've paged you, if I'd known."

"What do you want?"  Reaper says.  Unlike me, Reaper has been very vocal about his distaste for the man.

"Daniel has a visitor."  I nod at his words and get up off the bed.  I wave to Cat and Reaper before following Dr. Anderson out of the room.

* * *

When I enter the room, Phil is grinning at me. "Dan,"  he says, his eyes wide with excitement, "I saw the cutest puppy today, and I just wanted to hug it so much!  It was so small, and fluffy, and cute, and it's little tail was waggling and then when I stroked him he barked at me!  And I don't know what his name was, because I wasn't really paying attention to his owner, but I think Rodger would've suited him.  What do you think?"

I chuckle shaking my head a little.  "You're such a dork."  I whisper so that none of the scientists can hear me.  Now that I know they only have malicious intentions, I don't want them to hear a fucking word. 

"You still don't want to talk to them, huh?"  Phil says softly, and I look into his eyes.  He's looking up at me, blue eyes melting into my brown ones.

"No."  I say, "They don't get to know a fucking  _thing_ about me."

"How are you supposed to get better then?"  Phil says, "They are here to help you."

I shake my head, wishing I could tell him more, but the scientists could be listening.  If they find out that we want to leave...

Well, we wouldn't stand a chance.  

"There is no getting better,"  I decide to say, "not without you."

"What do you mean?"

" _You_ , Phil!"  I say, "You were-no, you  _are_ the reason I'm still fighting to be here. When I was feeling sad or depressed, you would always come into my room, and you would talk to me.  And sure, I wouldn't reply, I wouldn't even move, but you'd still come in everyday.  And before we lived together you would call me every day, and sure, I wouldn't pick up, but sometimes at 3 AM I would listen to your messages.  And you know what?  It helped so fucking much.  Between all the self-hate that was swimming in my brain, I knew that someone was fighting for me when I couldn't stand up for myself.  And between all of the tears, in those nights where I cried so much that my throat killed and it burnt and felt so raw, you would leave tissues by my bedside table, and sure, I didn't use them as my tears dried when I slept, but the were _there_! They showed me that someone cared. And I didn't have the best parents going up.  They loved me, of course they did, but they just weren't the most supportive of my choices when I was a kid.  They thought I was too young, so when I dreamt of being an actor, no-one supported me.  They all insinuated that they didn't think it was a real job.  But when I was breaking down over a law course, you were there.  You told me that I was worth believing in.  And sure, I didn't believe you, but you still helped me gathered the courage to drop out and pursue YouTube.  And when I was depressed you never used to make me feel broken or ill or wrong.  But when you put me in here? I feel as though you lost belief in me.  I feel as though you think I'm some sort of broken thing that needs to be fixed."

We stand there in silence for a second, the amicable air gone from the room.  Instead, it's been replaced with a quiet kind of sadness.  A song that's running through both of our head in the form of my words, cutting at us like shards of glass.

"Dan."  He said, his voice shaking slightly, "Look at me."  I look into his eyes and he is frowning.  "If,"  he says, "If you think that I think that you're  _broken_ or a messor a burden, then I must have done something  _horribly_ wrong."  He sighs, "You scared me.  On that rooftop."  I look away, unable to make eye contact.  "I was so afraid of losing you, I just got scared.  And when the people at the hospital told me that you needed to be put on suicide watch, that you needed to stay in a mental facility, I was terrified.  Dan, my worst nightmare is losing you.  I love you so much, I don't know what I'd do if you died."

"I'm sorry I scared you."  I say weakly.

"It's not your fault.  But you need to try.  Your demons won't ever fully go away.  But maybe you can learn to move past them and ignore them.  But I need you to try."

I nod, even though I know that I won't try for a while yet.  

Not until I get the fuck out of here.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! I haven't updated in forever!  
> anyway, shit is about to go down, so get ready!
> 
> if any of you are here from _Dan, Phil and the Curse of the Phanfiction_ , then I will hopefully get a chapter out next Sunday. 
> 
> if any of you are here from my oneshots, then I have been working on a couple (or six) and I am getting close to finishing a few of them, and more updates on them will be given in both of my chaptered fics. 
> 
> if you don't give a shit about any of that and are only here for this piece then i'll hopefully update in two weeks, but no promises as life has decided to be shitty and stockpile work on me. 
> 
> thank you sooooo much for reading this, it really means the world to me. i am so close to this story, and i hope that you guys managed to find what you were looking for in it.
> 
> kudos are greatly appreciated
> 
> until next time
> 
> have a good however long it takes for me to upload the next chapter 
> 
> (also 2018 is a thing. currently pretending that I'm not in a permanent state of existential crisis right now)


	8. Chapter 8

We now have a plan to get me and Reaper out of this shitty place too.  After Phil's visit, I walked back into the room and Cat and Reaper were brainstorming.  When I came in they made me sit on the bed, saying that they had a plan.

"We have a plan."  Reaper said, grinning widely.

I nod, waiting for him to continue.

"Okay, so," he began, "What we're gonna do is that Cat is going to suggest to Anderson to hire someone to personally assist you, saying that you only speak around your boyfriend, and so if we get another person, they can trick you into speaking.  This means that they can have more fun with you because you can talk."

I gulp at the word  _fun_.  These people make me feel sick, taking advantage of us like this.  I nod at them, showing that I understand everything so far.

"Okay, so this new person will get a master keycard, which we can steal.  We can leave the building with that card."

"Won't the person get in trouble?"  I ask.

"No, not really.  He wouldn't have an incentive to let us out of here."  Cat replies.

I nod once more, showing them that I agree with the plan.

"Okay, then."  Cat says, "Let's do this."

* * *

_It's stupid.  Everything is so stupid and it **shouldn't** affect me, but it does and for some reason I'm sitting here, almost crying because once again I managed to fuck it all up.  _

_I barely remember what was being argued about before it happened.  All I know is that the history teacher was explaining something, and I had a funny comment to make, and to no one in particular I said, "That's what she said." and all hell broke out.  People were groaning and telling me to shut up, bloody Max Carlington was bashing his head against the desk and the teacher was trying to restore the calmness that I had destroyed._

_I_ _looked at my desk, my face burning and my eyes prickling with tears, because I didn't want to be that one guy who couldn't take a joke.  And so I just stayed silent for the rest of the lesson, ignoring the sympathetic looks the teacher gave me, and just tried my hardest not to cry._

_It was so stupid that I wondered why the hell it was affecting me so much.  Why couldn't I just brush it off like nothing had happened?  A lot of people get told shut up, so why was I taking it to heart?_

_I don't know what had happened to me, but in that moment I just never wanted to speak again._

* * *

The plan is in action.  Any minute now Cat should be coming back from Dr. Andrson's office, having given him the idea of hiring a new guy.  Reaper and I are waiting for her, and as usual he's doing all of the talking.

"I can't wait, y''know,"  he says, "I've been wanting to leave this hell-hole for  _ages_.  I've been here for actual years.  You;ve only been here for a couple of months, and you are already wanting to get out of here.  Our whole situation is fucked up, y'know."  

I nod.

"But it all makes sense now."  He says, with an air of finality, "Now I understand that I was actually becoming g crazier in this place."

I nod again. 

"Have you gone back to being silent?" he said, "Because that's really boring and dull."

I roll my eyes.

"Ugh."  He says, "Don't get me wring, I love talking,"  _I know_ , "but man, could you like comment every once in a while?  Even if it's just an  _okay, cool, wow_."

"Okay, cool, wow."  I say, and he throws a pillow at me.

* * *

_The weirdest thing about depression was that I didn't notice it getting worse_ _until it was too bad to handle.  In fact, I didn't even notice it was depression at all.  For me, it was normal.  I had been going through it for so long, and I thought that everyone else was also going through it._

_That was, until I talked to Katy about it._

_Kit had been my first "girlfriend".  I say 'girlfriend' like that because we didn't actually do any couple stuff.  We held hands on occasion, and we rarely even kissed.  Of course, those things don't define romantic relationships, but it was always something I thought I would do, especially since I was sixteen I felt pressure on me to, y'know, have sex.  In fact, I think that the only reason we stayed together was because I didn't want to break up with her and lose her friendship._

_Anyway, we were doing our homework together after school one day (yes, how romantic of me), and she began to talk about stress._

_And then I told her something I'd never told anyone before.  At that point on time it hand't seemed very important: once again, I thought everyone else felt the same._

_"Yeah, I get it,"  I said, "It's like there's this constant sinking feeling in your stomach and it just doesn't go away and sometimes you just want so badly to not exist."_

_She just looked at me._

_It wasn't in a 'get-away-weirdo' way - it was more of a look of deep concern._

_"Dan,"  she said tentatively, "I don't think that's what I meant."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Do you know what depression is?"_

_Of course, I knew what depression was.  Of course I did.  But at that time we were taught that depressed people were"bad" in a way.  That they were strange - that they were dangerous.  And so I was immediately defensive._

_"What, do you think I have_ that _?!" I said, "I don't, like, self harm or anything, and I don't want to kill myself."_

_"Dan,"  she said, "that's not what depression's about."_

_And she began to explain it to me._

_And even though I agreed with everything she was saying, and I knew that I felt everything she was describing, I obstinately denied every accusation of being depressed._

_It was almost as if I thought that I could get rid of my depression by just willing it_ _away._

* * *

Cat didn't come and meet us.  I stayed in the room for hours on end, and Cat never came.  Reaper had fallen asleep and he was snoring lightly beside me.  His snoring is driving me slightly mad, so I get out of bed and walk into the hallway, with a vague idea of getting a glass of water or something like that.

And then I see Cat.  She stands there, not looking me in the eye, as if she hadn't seen me.  I walk over to her and wave at her.

She doesn't smile.  

"I'm sorry."  she whispers and I frown.  Sorry for what?  

"What for?"  I say, and she just shakes her head and walks away.  

I frown at her disappearing figure and then try and follow her, tiptoeing behind her. I need to get to the bottom of this.  What is she sorry for?  Did the plan not work?  What went wrong?  A million questions run through my brain, but none of them are answered.

Dr. Anderson catches her arm after a couple minutes of me following her.

"Dr. Richmond," he says, "the plan is in place."

She glares at him.

"The boy,"  he continues, "that you asked for is coming.  In fact, he's in my office right now."  He flashes a smile at her, "I'm so glad that you are co-operating with us now, albeit begrudgingly."

She continues to glare at him and yanks her arm away from his grasp, "Well,"  she said, "I need this job.  I hope you fucking rot in hell, you bastard."

"Now, now,"  he says calmly, "no need for that language.  We are doing this in the name of science."

Cat just scoffs and walks off.  

Anderson heads in my direction, and I try and duck out of the way, but he catches me

"Daniel,"  Anderson says, placing his hand in m shoulder and turning me in the direction of his office, "We have a surprise for you."

I follow him in silence, his arm feeling like a ton of bricks weighing down my shoulder.  He's smiling, but it isn't his High School Musical smile.  It's almost a wicked grin, a sinister smirk, hidden behind his happy-go-lucky demeanour.  Now that I know what these people are capable of, is smiles unsettles me. I hug his arm of his folder, and his smile slips, but his mask is soon back on.

We walk through the dull, white hallways in silence: me with my hand brushing the paint on the walls every now and then, Anderson with a slight spring in his step.  At this point I'm incredibly wary of him.  He's up to something and I know it, I just can't place my finger on what it is.

There is nothing but silence in the hallways, except for the soft padding of our footsteps against the creme carpet. 

I follow him into his office.

And that's when I see Phil. Phil, ever the ray of sunshine, grins at me, and practically tackles me in a hug.  I hug him back warily, and look at Anderson for an explanation.  Why the hell is Phil here?

"Daniel,"  Anderson says, just as Phil grabs my hand and squeezes it in excitement, "we are very unhappy with the small amount of progress you have made."  

I snort disbelievingly and Phil frowns at me (but only for a second, his grin soon return to his face)

"We have decided,"  Anderson continues, "that you need a bit more...  _prompting_ , let's say.  So, we have decided to allow Mr. Lester to stay with you, full time."

 _This_ must've been why Cat was acting so weird.  

Phil grins at me, awaiting my reaction, so I plaster a site onto my face, hoping that he doesn't see through it.  The plans are going up in flames.  It would've been okay if I had nicked the card off of someone who I didn't know because they would've believed him when he said that he had nothing to do with it.  But Phil?  Phil, who loves me with all of his heart and would do anything to help me?  They wouldn't believe him if he staked his life on the fact that he didn't give the card to me. 

"He can stay with you, in your room and another bed is being put there for him.  We would move your roommate, but we don't ave any rooms to spare as we are being refurbished at the minute.   And anyway, all the rooms are big enough for at least four people, if not more."

I nod, distracted by my brain scrambling for another plan, another idea, anything that doesn't involve Phil. 

"So,"  Anderson says, "go show him where he'll be staying."

I nod and lead Phil out of the room, and he squeezes my hand in excitement again.

What the hell are we going to do now?

* * *

_happiness is fleeting_  
_it is flying_  
_without a shadow or_  
_a shadow of a doubt_  
_but you are always_  
_going to fall_  
_always going to crash_  
_the human body was not made_  
_for flying_

* * *

Phil is sitting on my bed, and I haven't a fucking clue as to what the hell I'm supposed to do know.  

I mean, it's great that he's here, but it's also really shit because this puts a damper on our plans.  Who knew that we could always count on fucking Anderson to piss on our parade?

I walk over to Phil and just sit next to him, and he wraps an arm around my shoulders.

"You okay?"  he asks.

I nod, not really looking at him. 

He takes his arm away from my shoulders and frowns.  "Is it something I did?"  he asks, and I literally want to cry because Phil is feeling bad even though he's done  _nothing_ wrong.

"No," I say, "Not at all."  I put my hand on his knee and rub it softly.  He stares at my hand for a moment before taking my hand and lacing our finger together.

"I love you."  he says quietly, "And I'm not going to look at you differently because you're in here, staying in this shitty room.  I told you earlier, I don't think you're  _broken_.  I love you and I just want you to be happy."

I smile at him.  "I love you too."  I lean into him and press a kiss to his lips.

It feels like the world has melted away around us; it's just me and him sitting together, kissing innocently, no intensity, just pure longing and love.  I move so that I'm straddling him and he move his hands into my hair.  I push my tongue into his mouth gently, and his fingers slip under my shirt a bit.  He kisses me back softly, and slowly, as if he's savouring the moment, and he moves his arms so that they're wrapping around me.  I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck, and he keeps his arms at my waist.  I begin to move my arms downwards so that they're playing with the hem of his t-shirt, and he moves so that I can do so, not breaking the kiss once.  We've been together for so long that we don't even move in synchronicity, we move as one.  I'm about to pull of his shirt when the door opens, and I jump off him in a rush to sort myself out.

I quickly re-adjust my shirt as Reaper yelps, "Oh god, my _eyes_!  I could've gone my whole life without seeing your tongue down another person's throat, Sam!"

I turn red as Phil looks at me, "Sam?"  he says, and I laugh a bit.

"It's a joke,"  I say, "Or at least I think it is."  I pat down his ruffled hair a bit, and then jab him.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Introduce yourself,"  I say quietly, so that Reaper can't hear me, "I don't like talking unless I have to around Reaper."  It was true: I may be comfortable enough to talk every once in a while, but I'd rather just stay silent and nod.

He nods, before getting up and walking over to Reaper, "I wish we could've met in better circumstances." he says, offering his hand for Reaper to shake, "I'm Phil, Dan's boyfriend."

Reaper frowns for a second, before saying, "Dan? Wait, I'm confused, who's Dan?"

I face palm as Phil laughs in confusion.  "That's Dan."  Phil says, gesturing towards me.

"I thought your name was Sam."  Reaper says, and I can't help it:  I burst into peals of laughter.

And that is how Phil and Reaper first met:  completely confused with me practically howling in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, I literally abandoned this account - I will try and update more, but at least after back (even though it's practically been a million years.  
> A disaster struck earlier, because a bunch of my one-shot drafts got deleted, so I've been trying to recreate the stories that I lost, and adding that to work and mental health issues meant that I kind of neglected my chaptered fics.  
> As well as that, I kind of got stuck on this chapter - I was kind of unsure of how I wanted to go about things and so I was just procrastinating finishing it.  
> However, I am going to try to get somewhat regular updates - probably ever fortnight, if I can, but I can't really promise much.  
> Thanks so much for bearing with me, and thanks so much for reading.  
> Special thanks to anyone who commented or left kudos, it really means the world to me!  
> I'll see you soon (hopefully).  
> (also shameless self promo - if you want, click on my profile to read my other chaptered fic (Dan, Phil and the Curse of the Phanfiction), it's meant to be a lot more light-hearted than this, and also if you want, check out the one shots that are there, I'm working on some more, so let's hope that they'll be done soon, but I'll keep you updated. Okay that's all from me, byeeeee!)


	9. Chapter 9

_"Hey Phil."  I said as his face appeared on my computer screen._

_"Hi!"  he replied, grinning at me, "My neighbour on the left has got a girlfriend, and I swear to god it's the worst thing ever."  he complained._

_"Oh really?"  I replied, "You jealous?"_

_"Yes, Dan, I, the flaming homosexual who is currently in a relationship with a cute boy, is jealous of my neighbour and his girlfriend." Phil deadpanned._

_"I'm quite offended that you only think I'm 'cute'."  I reply, "I thought I was worth more than that."  I pout a little, trying not to laugh._

_"Sorry.  I should rephrase that.  Oh, Daniel, my beautiful, beautiful boyfriend, apple of my eye, fire of my loins, source of my eternal passion, who's godlike beauty could never be surpassed by any mere mortal, how did I ever get lucky enough to meet you?"  He rolled his eyes, and we both laughed a little._

_"You calling me 'the fire of your loins' is probably the worst thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth."_

_"Why, my dear darling boyfriend?" he's really layering on the sarcasm now, "Does it not turn you on?"  he winked at me, "Don't you want a piece of this?"_

_"Never say that again."  I say, face-palming, "And_ _anyway, I've already had a piece of you.  Remember when we last met up and I-"_

_"-OKAY!  I get the point."  He was bright red, and I was laughing.  "How did we even get to this topic?"_

_There's a moment of silence as we both try to remember.  "You were talking about your neighbour's girlfriend."  I remember._

_"Oh yeah."  Phil said, "It's awful.  They have sex every night.  Really loudly."  Phil then went on to imitate his neighbour, and I nearly fall off the bed laughing._

_There's a knock on the door, and Phil instantly stops making those noises.  I stop laughing and make a shushing gesture towards Phil._

_"It's open." I say, loud enough for whoever's on the other side.._

_My brother opens the door and glances at me for a second and I'm lying on my bed in front of the computer, the screen making my face one that resembles Voldemort._

_"What do you want?"  I say._

_"Mum says you need to come down for dinner."  he says._

_"Tell her to fuck off."  I say, and Adrian giggles.  I hear a snort from my computer and I grin at Phil for a second.  "Nah,"  I say, "Tell her that I'll eat later."_

_"Okay,"  Adrian says, "She'll probably come and yell at you in a minute."_

_I smile and shake my head.  "I'll see you in a bit"_

_He shrugs and walks out of the room and I turn back to Phil._

_"Hi."  I say._

_"Hey."  He says, "I can't wait for you to come here."_

_"Why?  So that we can have equally loud sex and make your neighbours repent?" I grin._

_"No."  Phil says, "Well, yes, but the actual reason is because I miss you a lot.  I really want to be able to hug you all the time."_

_"All the time?  Phil, you are aware that I need to use the toilet.  And breathe."  I joke._

_"Maybe just 95% of the time then."  He says, "But really.  I can't wait for you to come to Manchester."_

_"Speaking of which I got my acceptance to Uni in the mail this morning." I say, waiting for his reaction.  I remember seeing the letter ad instead of joy all I felt was a slow sinking feeling of I-can't-do-this._

_"Yay!"  he said, dancing a little.  After a second, he notices me biting my lip and looking at the keyboard,  "That's a good thing, right?"  he asks._

_"Well..."  I say, "Being able to see you is a good thing.  But I don't know about university."  My heart is racing.  What if he doesn't understand?_

_"Why not?"_

_"It's just,"  I sigh, "_ Everything _.  I keep on doing all of these things.  Going to School.  Going to Uni.  Working towards a future that I don't even want.  I have no clue how my future's going to be.  I mean, I have you, and I think that's kept me from going overboard.  You ground me.  But I don't know whether I want to be stuck in a dead-end lawyer job just because that's what my parents expect of me.  I want to do something fun.  I don't want studying to be a chore."_

_"Then don't let it be.  Get a degree in something else." He says it simply, like I could just do that and not have to worry.  It's not like that.  My parents don't want that for me, and as much as I hate it, they are a big factor in my decision-making process._

_"It's not that simple.  I want to.  But everyone expects so much from me.  Everyone in my family has achieved so much, and I'm kind of sitting here, wishing I was born into a different family.  One which didn't expect so much of me.  One which would let me stop and think about what I want instead of forcing academia onto me.  One which doesn't get disappointed with my results that aren't A* worthy.  I'm not stupid - I just struggle with school sometimes.  And that should be okay.  And it was: I've got into university.  But I don't want to go and get a law degree.  But it's what's expected of me. So I have to do it."_

_"There's no 'have to' about it, Dan.  If you're unhappy, change something.  It's your life forever, not theirs."_

_"I need something to fall back on.  I just," I say, forcing the tears back, "It's all so_ shitty _! I wish I didn't have to deal with any of it!  I wish that they'd shove their opinions up their arse!"_

_"You'll always have me to fall back on."  he says, "Trust me, Dan, I'm going nowhere."_

_I shake my head.  Of course he says that now.  But he'll get sick of me.  I'm a burden._

_"Daniel,"  my mum says, waking into my room without knocking.  I smash the laptop lid down, abruptly ending the Skype call.  The last thing I need is for Phil to hear my mum being a bitch. "Come downstairs for dinner right now."  She catches sight of my computer, and glares at me. "What are you doing on your computer?  I swear to God you're always on that fucking computer.  You should study!  Or help around the house!  But no, you just sit there, with your headphones on every minute of every day, doing nothing.  Don't you care that I've been at work all day?"_

_I want to tell her that I put my headphones on because the drown out her yelling at everyone, that I'm always on the computer because I've found more of a family on the internet than I've ever found in real life.  I want to tell her to fuck off.  Instead, I just grit my teeth and say, "I'll be down in a minute."_

_She shakes her head and walks out of the room.  "I don't know what I did wrong."  S_ _he mutters, and I fight the urge to cry_

* * *

I woke up this morning and I looked at myself in the mirror. 

And for a second there was nothing.

The calm before the storm.

The peace before a riot.

A moment, where I was nothing but a boy with curly hair, bags under his eyes and scars marking his wrists.

Then  _those_ thoughts ran through my mind, cutting me with every word.

_Useless._

_Worthless._

_Can't do anything right._

_It'd be better if you'd just kill yourself._

And the taunting voice kept on stabbing me with it's words.  And quietly, from behind the taunting voice, my own thought pattern was calling out, almost a whisper drowned out by the self-hatred.

_This is too much._

_This is too much._

_I want this to be over._

_I want to die._

The words were raging in my head, spinning around my head like a mantra, washing in in waves that covered my entire being, filling me up to the brim, and I could barely breathe.

_Useless._

_Worthless._

_Kill Yourself_

I was drowning.

I was drowning and I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe.

_This is too much._

_I want to die._

I didn't want to swim to the surface.

I reach out towards the mirror, looking my reflection dead in the eye

The next thing I know, Phil is breaking down the locked door to get into the bathroom, and I'm sat on the ground, surrounded by smashed pieces of mirror, my own blood, and the tears I didn't realise were flowing out of my eyes.  He caught sight of me and instantly ran to where I was, taking the piece of mirror I held at my wrist out of my hand and throwing it away.  He grabbed my hands, cradling the bloody fingers and looked me in the eyes.

He was crying.

And I was too.

"Don't..." He says, "Please..."

The adrenaline seems to be wearing off now, and I just sit there in silence.  Unbearably numb.

I want to touch him, to hold him, to hug him, to kiss him, to say that I'll never do it again, to say that I  _love_ him.  But I just sit there, as if a curse has been put on me, locking me in place, stopping me from moving.

Unbearably numb. 

"You're okay..." He says, and he breathes out in relief, "Please... Don't... Not again... Never again..."

And I want to touch him, I want to comfort him, I want to take all the bad away from him, I want to say that I  _love_ him. 

But I'm drowning.

_Useless._

_Worthless._

_Look at what you've done._

_Just kill yourself_.

He pulls me close and hugs me tightly against his chest, and I can hear his staggered breathing, and I can feel his tears soak in my hair.

"So scared..." he said, "You weren't answering..."

He pulls back a bit, "I thought,"  he says, finding it hard to finish the sentence, "I thought you were..."

He gulps and leans in, pressing his forehead against mine.  

We sit like that for a while, breathing as one, salty tears running down our cheeks.

"I love you."  He says, breaking the silence, "Let's go get you cleaned up." He seems to have calmed down now.

He helps me up, and practically carries me over to the bed.  I am walking, but at a snail's pace.  I take a breath with each footsteps, despite my lungs feeling like they're full of water, despite my craving to stop breathing altogether.

"I love you." He repeats. 

_Useless._

_Worthless._

"Let's find some bandages."

_Look at what you've done._

_Just kill yourself_.

"Do you know where they're kept?"

_Useless._

"Probably not."

_Worthless._

"Oh! There's some here."  he grabs something from a draw in Reaper's dresser.

_Look at what you've done._

I look at my hands.  I feel the bed move down as he sits in front of me, lifting my chin up so that I'm looking at him.

Tear-filled brown eyes meet glistening blue ones.

A boy biting his lip gets bandaged by the person he loves most.

An enchanting boy puts plasters on a broken boy's broken parts.

"I love you." he says.

_Just kill yourself._

He kisses me on the forehead and runs his hands through my hair.

_No_ , I think,  _not today._

* * *

_There's a low feeling in my stomach.  It's like a black hole, slowly consuming me from within until I am nothing, nothing but an empty shell._

_I am numb._

_I am a blank page that will never be written on._

_Everyone around me seems normal enough:  they're chatting and laughing and I'm just sitting here._

_A blank slate._

_A vacant expression._

_"Dan?" Kit asked, "Are you okay?"_

_"Fine."  I say, my voice bland and monotonous, "Bit sick."_

_"Oh, do you want some medicine, God knows I have some paracetamol somewhere in here."_

It's not that kind of sick _, I want to scream,_ I feel like there's a black slug sitting in my stomach, slowly but surely sucking all the life out of me.  

_I am numb._

_No feelings._

_No nothing._

_But at the same time I feel like screaming._

_I feel like crying, I feel like nothing is fair because if life was fair I would not be sitting here imagining all of the ways I could be gone by tomorrow._

_I am nothing._

_I am inconsequential._

_I am numb._

* * *

I'm lying in my bed, my mind a blank slate.

I'm sleeping to the sound of him breathing.

His arms are wrapped around me, holding me close.

He isn't going to let go of me.

And I don't think I want him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi thank you for reading this!
> 
> so, it's been rough few weeks to say the least, and it's not been getting any better, and a lot of the feelings and experiences that dan's been going through in this chapter are based off of my own experiences, feelings or wants to do things, if you wanted a bit of background to this chapter, that is.
> 
> i hope that y'all are having a good week though, because you guys actually mean the world to me :)
> 
> i really hoped that you enjoyed this chapter. (and if you did maybe you should check out my other works by clicking [here](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/theslytherinqueen/pseuds/theslytherinqueen)#spon)
> 
> i will see you when i post a new chapter, which will hopefully be soon. 
> 
> i love you guys so much, bye!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is short and unfinished- i explain why in the next

Unsurprisingly, Phil doesn't let me brush my relapse under the rug.  "You have to tell  _someone_ ,"  he argues, "that's the whole point of you being here - you need to let people help you."

I shake my head.

"Shake your head all you want, you know I'm right." Phil says, walking closer to me, "I want to go back to our apartment." he admits.

"Then go."  I say, acting as if the very thought of him leaving didn't make me want to scream.   _Your co-dependency is going to push him away, you clingy idiot,_ I think, _Even the thought of being without him is upsetting you.  Disgusting_.  "No one is asking you to stay."

"That's not what I meant."  Phil says, "I want to go back to  _our_ apartment.  It's just a building without you there."

"Then stay here." I reply, "Or don't, I don't care.  I'm done talking about this."  I begin to walk away, and he grabs my wrist. 

"Dan, will you stop acting like a child for one minute!" he says, exasperated.  "I try and have a discussion with you and you just end up throwing a strop!  You aren't eighteen anymore, you aren't a kid.  You can't just run away from your problems."

"What do you want me to say, Phil?'  I reply, "Do you want me to say that I can feel myself fading away slowly, day by day?  That when I brush my hair in the morning all I can see is under-eye bags and empty eyes and the goddamn scars on my wrist?  That I don't know whether it's worth it anymore, to keep on living this half-life, where I'm alive, but I'm not really there?  Because that's how I feel, Phil.  I feel so fucking empty, and I lack motivation to do the simplest things and I just want to sleep until death takes me away once and for all.  I'm living like an empty shell of a human Phil.  There's just this void where a normal person should be, but instead there's just me,  and I can just feel the life force draining out of me."  I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, trying to push back the teas that are threatening to fall.  "You know what?  If you want the scientists to know about me so badly, why don't  _you_ go and tell them?  But understand this, Phil.  They are never going to hear a  _fucking_ word from me."  

And with that I yank my wrist from his hand and walk out of the room.

* * *

 

Sadly, there isn't anyplace for me to go to in order to calm down - this building is just a labyrinth of white walls.

 


	11. NOT A CHAPTER.

hey guys...

if you’ve read this message on my other story then it’s the exact same one :)

so. a lot has been going on in my life which began my very long hiatus for this story. and it’s been months since i’ve uploaded, which i’m sorry for.

you see, the thing is every time i try and write these stories no words come out. i can’t find anything to write almost - there’s no inspiration.

i started these stories last year as a way to pass the time, and now i have a lot on my plate and i don’t want to lose my love for writing by forcing myself to post things that i no longer have the inspiration to write.

and so i am going to put these stories on an indefinite hiatus. i don’t know when exactly i’ll upload the next chapter(if i ever do). but don’t worry. if in the next however long i decide to finally say goodbye to these stories then i’ll upload another chapter that explains how they end.

thank you so much for reading these stories and enjoying them so far. knowing that you’ve enjoyed something that i’ve written makes me very happy and kept me writing far past the point where i lost my inspiration.

goodbye (for now) xx


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